


Bertie Anew

by Luthorchickv2



Series: Bertie Anew [2]
Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: Bertie stands up for himself, Bertie’s past friends with benefits partner, Crossdressing, M/M, Minor character death (Agatha), hidden cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 21:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18170312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthorchickv2/pseuds/Luthorchickv2
Summary: Two years after “A Change for Bertie” Bertie gets called back to England and faces not just his past but Jeeves as well. This most likely won’t make sense if you haven’t read “A Change for Bertie”.





	1. Facing the Past

**Author's Note:**

> First off I owe an enormous apology to everyone who left comments on this. I somehow missed them and reading them all at once helped motivate me. I am going through and answering them. I hope this addition doesn’t disappoint. There is a surprise cameo in this which I hope people catch. 
> 
> Also to M who was my cheerleader and gentle nudger over the last year. 
> 
> My Bertie is a little more serious in this then in the source material. Maybe the two whacks in the head he got in Comrade Bingo made him different. I have also spent that last year reading dozens of books on World War 1 and the British experience in it and now have a whole head canon here that Bertie served in the war in the trenches and, like Phryne Fisher, hasn’t taken seriously since 1918, until, well, this. 
> 
> This has been in progress for almost two years, and comments and kudos will be treasured.
> 
> Charlie is being played by Ioan Gruffudd circa his Horatio Hornblower days.

One glorious Thursday morning I was hunched over my desk re-reading my latest column when my flat door opened and my on-and-off-again bed partner Charlie strolled through carrying my mail. 

“Bertie, there’s a telegram taped to your door. It’s marked urgent.” He waved the paper around before sprawling on the couch that abutted my desk, lanky frame hanging off the end.

I rolled my eyes at him and turned back to my column. Yes, my column. Wouldn’t everyone back home be surprised to hear that not only was I employed with a steady stream of the green folding stuff, but that my column reviewing the latest novels was actually quite the thing? My column ran twice a month in a well respected New York literary folio and said on-and-off-again bed partner was the editor in chief.

We had encountered each other at a club for people of our persuasion and determined that it was safer to be with each other even if there was no grand pash involved, than risk raids at the club and the humiliation of public exposure. We became great friends and one day early in our understanding he had come across a shred of my writing. Praising it, he had quickly offered me a column and much to my surprise, I was good at it. For the first time in my life, I was supporting myself. I had quite the following and had been invited to talk at such respected venues as New York University and recently, Cornell. None of this under my own name of course. Will Reeves had quite the following, rather.

Yes, even now, years later and miles away, I pined for Jeeves. I think I will always pine for him but I loved my life here in New York. Here I was not a useless young blot on society. I had a circle of friends who didn’t view me as a tool or source of the ready and I was gainfully employed. I had escaped my old life fully and it had only taken a full year for me to stop expecting Jeeves or Agatha or Dahlia to show up at my door. A very tiny part of me was disappointed with that, but the much larger part was happy. I was happy. 

“You might want to open it.” Charlie trust the telegram envelope in front of my eyes.

“If I wanted to read it I would have opened the door when the bloody delivery man was pounding on it.” I shoved the envelope away. 

“Bertie.” Charlie whined, quite unappealing coming from a man 10 years my senior. His coffee eyes opened wide and his inky black curls fell over his eyes making him look like a child.

“Fine. If you are so interested, then you read it. I need to finish this or my editor will have my bollocks.” Charlie, the editor in question, leered at me but his curiosity outweighed any amorous urges.

“Mr. Wooster. Stop. Agatha gravely ill. Stop. Not expected to last month. Stop. Booked passage for you on Olympic. Stop. Adams.” Charlie read aloud and then paused. “I’m sorry, Bertie. Rummy news.”

I froze, paper blurring in front of me. Adams was my long suffering solicitor and the only person from my old life who knew of my whereabouts for exactly this reason. Aunt Agatha, the bane of my bachelor life was dying. What would that mean for me? No more surprise engagements? I could only hope. 

“Are you going to go?” Charlie asked. He, of course, knew all about the nephew crusher.

“I guess I have to.” I shuddered with facing my old life but there are some things a Wooster just has to do. Visiting a dying Aunt on her deathbed was one of those things.

“Bertie.” Charlie wrapped himself around me from behind. “Don’t forget who you are. You don’t have to let them control you anymore.”

I nodded but leaned into him anyway. I would probably end up seeing Dahlia, and Angela and Tuppy, who had finally married. Adams had been sending me updates as major life events had happened for people. Almost all my old friends at the drones had married and almost all the females who had I had been engaged to were off the market. Thank god. Only Honoria Glossip was left. I got hives just thinking about her. 

“Don’t worry, old thing. I’ll just nip across the pond and be back before you can say toodle pip.” I said, trying to be cheerful and failing.

Charlie sighed. “Just make sure you do come back. Don’t let them steal you away.”

I smiled. “No worries about that.”

Charlie let go and leaned a hip on the desk. “Will you see him?” He added an extra emphasis on the him.

I knew he meant Jeeves. One night deep into our cups I had spilled the whole blasted beans to Charlie. Charlie had been drunk enough to declare that he was willing to swim to England to fight this Jeeves for my honor. To which I had quipped that Charlie had stolen the last of my honor and besides the water was cold and there were sharks.

“I can’t imagine so? I mean, it has been two years, I doubt he has anything to do with my family. Probably too busy plotting how to run the world. My bigger challenge will be how to avoid getting engaged to that wretched Glossip girl. I’d feel better about it if she were married to someone else.”

We sat in silence and I just took comfort in my friend’s presence.

Very softly I said “I’m a little frightened I’ll become him again.” Charlie stared at me puzzled. 

“Who?” He asked.

I shuddered and turned to look out the window. “That useless blot who was just a tool for those around him. How do I stay me when faced with so many who only knew him?“ This time I added emphasis on the him and I am afraid it came out very bitter.

“I have never known you to be either useless or a blot, naïve yes, but not useless. Sometimes in our lives we expected to behave a certain way weather we know it or not.” He paused and ran his fingers through my hair soothing me. “ Would you like me to come with you?” He asked.

I turned to face him heart in my throat. What if he wanted to deepen the whatisit between us? I couldn’t love him as more than a friend and it would destroy our friendship he if wanted more.

Charlie held up a hand to stave off my panic. “As a friend Bertie, nothing more. You are too nice for me and I am not Jeevesian enough for you.” He paused. “And besides, I have business I can tend to in London, so it will actually be good for me to get over there.”

I snorted in response. “You are a dear friend. Life would be easier if we did suit. If you’re sure?”

Charlie nodded. “Yep. It will be fun. I’ll wire a couple of editors in London and see if I can set up some meetings.”

I smiled at him. “I’m grateful. I feel silly for how relieved I feel but I do feel better knowing you will be there. Now if only you had a plan to keep me from getting engaged to Honoria Glossip.”

Charlie laughed. “Well, I am no Jeeves, but surely I can come up with something.”

No, he was not Jeeves, but he had supported me and been a steadfast friend and that was even better


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie arrives in England, has an unexpected rescuer and says goodbye.

Five days later I dropped Charlie off at the Savoy and ankled it over to the hospital where Agatha lay. As I stared up at the façade above the entrance, I was filled with fear. I didn’t want to comfort my past. I didn’t want to deal with Dahlia or Agatha or anyone. Time and distance had healed the sharpest off my wounds but had also given me clarity and whatsit, the ability to think without emotions? Well, whatever it is I had experienced it.

And I was angry. I had been bullied and abused by all in my life and it was not to be borne.

“Bertram Wilberforce Wooster! Where on earth have you been?” My Aunt Dahlia’s voice started me so badly I dropped the flowers I was carrying.

There she was in the entrance of the hospital and to my shock, Jeeves was with her. I let my eyes rove around his form and just took him in for a second. He was much unchanged since I had last clasped eyes on him, tall and solid and handsome enough that my breath caught for beat. There was just a hint of grey about his temples but otherwise it could have been two years before. He looked good, my former man and I quickly looked back to Dahlia.

“Aunt Dahlia. Mr. Jeeves.” I refused to be cowed by her shouting, and meant it to sting.

“Don’t you Aunt Dahlia me, you young blot! You disappear for two years and all you have to say is Dahlia?” Her shouting was drawing stares from passing strangers.

“As I don’t wish to bandy my personal life about in the open air how about we leg it into the hospital and find a more private place?” I started walking before seeing her reaction.

I also needed time to get myself together. What rot. I thought I’d have more time to be used to being back before comforting either Jeeves or Dahlia. The only thing that would be worse is if Honoria had been with them.

I legged over to the check in desk without checking to see if Jeeves or Dahlia were following me.

“What ho! I’m Bertie Wooster. My Aunt Agatha is here, Agatha Gregson?” I waited for the chap to look her up.

“Lady Worplesdon is in room 257. She is right up the stairs and then to the left at the end of the corridor. It has a lovely view of the gardens.”

“Excellent. Thank you. I was also wondering if you could direct me to a quiet place where I might converse with my family in private?” I gestured behind me where I could hear Dahlia and Jeeves murmuring.

“Lady Worplesdon is a private room with a private sitting area attached. There is already a young lady in there.”

“Thanks again! Toddle pip.” A private sitting room was convenient even if Angela was already there. Well at least I could get all the confrontations over with. Angela was sure to be boiling mad that I had missed her wedding even if I had sent a rather generous gift through my solicitor. .

I poked my head in Agatha’s room only to see her fast asleep. She looked tiny and old which I guess she was, and for the first time it really struck me that she was dying.

Nephew crusher and instigator of engagements, yes, but she was also my aunt. And as wretched as she could sometimes be a small part of remembered how kind she had been to a small boy who had just lost his parents. It made me sad to see her so diminished. A low cough from behind me shook me from my thoughts and I turned to see Jeeves tilting his head towards the door next to me. I exhaled and prepared to meet my doom in the form of Jeeves, Dahlia and Angela.

It wasn’t Angela. It was worse. Honoria Glossip sat perched in a chair in the sitting room.

“Bertie!” She boomed and popped up to grab me.

One moment later, desperate for air I extracted myself from Honoria’s embrace. “Honoria, what are you doing here?”

She pouted. “Really, Bertie. What kind of welcome is that for your fiancé?” My blood froze in my veins. 

“I beg your pardon?” I couldn’t have heard her right.

Honeria giggled. “Well, not yet. But I have it on good authority that we shall be married by the end of the week. Lady Worplesdon has everything arranged. She knew you would come back for me!”

I panicked. Less than a day back in the old Metrop and I was engaged.

"Excuse me?" A light American accent broke the dullness of the waiting room and shook me from my panic. It was a voice I knew well. I spun around to see Charlie's voice coming out of a tall, rail thin, elegantly dressed female. He was wearing a red bob wig and bright blue day dress. If I hadn’t known the voice I would have sworn in court I was looking at a woman. 

"I'm looking for Bertie Wooster? I was told he would be visiting his Aunt Agatha?" At that Dahlia, Jeeves and Honoria turned to look.

"Charlie? What are you doing here?" I left the ‘in that get up’ off not wanting to alert people to that fact that this was not a woman in front of them.

"Bertie, there you are!" Charlie strode over to me and wrapped me in a big hug. "I know you said to stay in the hotel but I couldn't stand the thought of you here, grieving all on your own." Charlie grinned at me, eyes dancing with laughter.

"Bertie, who is this creature? And why is she hanging off you, young blot." I froze hearing Honoria's voice but Charlie was ready.

"Oh Bertie you naughty thing? Did you not tell them we are engaged? Did I ruin the surprise?" Charlie pitched his voice to sound breathy and distressed.

I gaped at him for a second before realizing what his game was. I pinched his side but dutifully introduced him. I had two seconds to think of a name for him and wished Charlie had warned me. 

"Aunt Dahlia, Jeeves, Honoria, this is my fiancé Charlotte Carraway from New York City. Charlie, this is my aunt Dahlia Travers, my former valet, Reginald Jeeves and an acquaintance, Honoria Glossip."

Charlie grinned toothily at Jeeves, not unlike a shark. "I've heard so much about you, I feel as if I know you all ready."

The room stilled. You could hear a penny drop. Honoria's jaw was gaping open. Jeeves was too professional to display emotions and Dahlia looked gobsmacked.

"But Bertie, you returned for me? Agatha said so!" Honoria shouted, flushed.

"Well Aged Aunt A was wrong.” I said, grateful for this unexpected and wholly welcome excuse to give her.

I would not end up married to Honoria.

"You didn’t tell anyone!" Honoria glared.

“Bertie and I have been engaged for weeks!" Charlie simpered leaning into to me and extending his left hand where a handsome diamond sat on his ring finger. I had to commend him for he lengths he had gone to go for this charade.

"Honoria, I haven’t told anyone because it’s no one’s business but mine and honestly if you think about it for a bit you'll find that we wouldn't suit at all. After all, would you really want to move to New York? My life is there now. I have a job there."

Dahlia interrupted. ”You? Have a job? As what?"

Charlie giggled. It was like he was a whole different person. "Oh, he works for my brother. That's how we met actually. He writes reviews for my brother's literary folio."

"You never. I subscribe to all the latest folios and I have never seen anything written by Bertie Wooster!" Dahlia huffed.

"That's because there is nothing written by Bertie Wooster. I use a thingy, a non de plum?" I answered.

"Nom de plume, dear." Charlie answered at the same time Jeeves said  
"Nom de plume, Sir." If Jeeves were any other man I would suspect him of glaring but as he was Jeeves a tightening of the upper lip was all he displayed.

"Thanks, darling." I threw caution to the wind and pecked Charlie on the cheek. In for a pint, in for a pound or how ever the expression is. Never let it be said that this Wooster doesn't throw himself in whole heartily.

"He writes by the name Will Reeves."

I flushed and kept my eyes away from Jeeves. I never expected him to know that I have use a combo of his first and last name as my fake last name.

"You, Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, young blot, pestilence on man, are the acclaimed columnist Will Reeves?" Dahlia’s voice was drier than the bloody Sahara. "What nonsense. What lies are you telling that girl? "

Charlie at once lost his humor. His grin sharpened and he drew himself up like a character in a Rosie M. Banks novel. 

"He isn’t lying. I help proofread his columns. How dare you call him a liar. At least I never stood by idly and watched as some loathsome creature knocked him out by a blow to the head." With that, he turned towards me, snubbing the other three in the room.

"How's your aunt Agatha?" He asked, still twinned around my corpus.

"I haven’t spoken to her yet but is seems to be a bit not good. Apparently she has enough strength to summon Honoria and try to guilt me into getting married to her before she dies. I don’t know how much longer she has left."

"I'm sorry, Bertie." He leaned into me. I soaked in the comfort and found strength in his arms.

"And what were you thinking showing up here dressed as a bloody female? Are you out of your mind?" I whispered in his ear.

He just smiled at me. "Well it worked didn't it? Honoria’s gone." I looked up and sure enough the Glossip menace was gone and only Jeeves and Dahlia reminded.

So the time had come, and I could no longer avoid Jeeves and Dahlia.

I stepped away from Charlie and turned to face them.

“So now you know some of what I’ve been doing and where I’ve been.” I flopped into a chair and Charlie perched next to me.

“We searched for you in New York. You weren’t at the flat and no one had seen you.” Jeeves spoke carefully.

I smiled. “I wasn’t at the flat. I have my own little place downtown.”

“Fine. You’ve been in New York. That doesn’t tell me why you left in the first place, you young blot.”

“Bertram.” I paused. Did that strong assertive voice really come me? In that moment I shifted back from the Bertie who let himself be used by his family and to who I was now.

“What.” Dahlia snapped at me.

“I am not a young blot. I am Bertram. Or Bertie to my friends. But you will not call me young blot again or anything else of that nature.” Part of me could not believe my boldness.

But a larger part, the part that wrote reviews and spoke at esteemed colleges was chuffed. I knew now I could survive my time back in England. I could take on Dahlia and Jeeves and when Agatha was gone, I’d go back to my life in New York and be okay. I looked up and could meet Jeeves’s dark stare without flinching.

“I left, Aunt Dahlia, because I realized that I could not trust the two people I had trusted the most. I left because I could not trust the safety of myself to you. I left because you let me be assaulted for your own damn purpose!” Charlie’s hand settled on my arm and I stopped, realizing I was almost shouting.

I took a deep breath, covered Charlie’s hand with mine and shot him a soft smile. He had helped vanquish Honoria and his presence gave me strength.

“You know I would have done anything for you, either of you.” I knew I was being too free in front of Dahlia about my feelings for Jeeves but hopefully she would overlook it.

I ignored her outraged face and turned to Jeeves who was looking particularly Jeevisian.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I had hoped my severance was enough to lift you from service. I thought for sure you’d be an MP someone where, you know one of the whosits who make laws and such.”

Jeeves tilted his head. “I couldn’t accept it. Your flat awaits your return and I have taken employment with Mrs. Travers. We have been searching for you.”

“Then the flat and money will shall wait forever, for I have no wish for either and they were given freely as a reward for many years of service.”

Jeeves took a step and stopped.

“I couldn’t accept it.” He repeated. If it had been anyone else, I would have called him frustrated. 

Before I could respond a nurse bustled in.

“Family of Lady Worplson?”

“I say!” I leapt to my feet. “I’m her nephew.”

The nurse smiled at me.

“Her Ladyship is resting and is not likely to wake before tomorrow. While you are welcome to stay, you might be more comfortable at home.”

“That might be true.” I said dryly. “But my home is in New York, so I might as well stay. Tell me, what can you share about my Aunt’s condition?”

She smiled sadly. “All we can do is make her comfortable now.”

I nodded and slouched back into the chair. Charlie wrapped a gloved covered around mine and squeezed.

I could see Jeeves watching but I couldn’t care. I was all the sudden exhausted, the trip, the anger, it was all hitting me.

“Maybe we should go back to the hotel, rest a little bit, prepare for tomorrow.” Charlie said.

I nodded, wanting nothing more than a quick kip between the sheets.

“Sir, if I might have a word?” Jeeves spoke carefully.

“Not today, Jeeves. I’m tired.” I waved him off.

“Come, darling.” Charlie pulled me up and held me for a beat.

“Bertie, we aren’t finished!” Dahlia snapped, blocking the door.

I broke, years of rage flowing up. “Yes we are, Aunt Dahlia! We are most certainly finished. You stood by as I was assaulted, not just once but twice! And that was just the last in long line of cruelties. I was a tool to you and I never questioned it not, not once, until I was lying on the ground concussed by that bastard Spode as you stood by. I loved you and was happy to let you use me but that was too far. In that moment you cared for nothing more than yourself and damn who was hurt as a result. Well, I don’t need it. I don’t need your love and I don’t need your approval and I certainly don’t need your money. As far as I am concerned from this moment on we are nothing more than indifferent acquaintances.” I was shouting at the end but couldn’t bring myself to care. She was never going to change and I had proved quite successfully that what I spoke I was true. I didn’t need her, not anymore.

“Now, if you wouldn’t mind stepping aside Mrs. Travers, it’s been a long day and we could use some rest.” I was done with her.

She stood in stock. I don’t think anyone had spoken to her like that, ever, but I couldn’t regret it.

I nodded to Jeeves, pulled Charlie around Mrs. Travers, and set off for the hotel.

 

The cab was quiet on the way to the Savoy. Charlie seemed to realize that I needed time to get together my thoughts. And I did. There were too many thoughts and feelings careening around my head clashing together like knights on a whatsit’s field, with the long poles and such.

There was my narrow escape from Honoria, the impending loss of my Aunt Agatha, Charlie dressed as a woman, Dahlia and her nonsense and last but certainly not least, Jeeves. In the silence of the cab I could admit to myself that I still loved him and from the moment I saw him standing there I wanted nothing more than to beg him to fix it, to fix it all.

But I wouldn’t, I was made of stronger stuff now and I didn’t need him to rescue me. 

We stayed quiet until the door closed behind us and we were safe in the relative privacy of the suite.

“Well.” Charlie started as he pulled off the wig. “A small part of me had hoped that you had been exaggerating about Dahlia but I can see that you weren’t. I shudder to think what Agatha was like.” He dropped the wig on the side table and moved to pour a couple drinks.

“But you, you were impressive, Bertie. I’ve never seen you so angry.” Charlie said.

I groaned and dropped on to the sofa. “Make mine a double.”

Charlie handed me a glass and curled up next to me.

I glanced at him. “You’re going to wrinkle your frock.” I pointed out, dryly. “And you seem entirely too comfortable in that get up.”

Charlie chuckled and drank. “I tended to play all the girl parts in school when it was time for amateur dramatics. I thought it would do the trick here.” He poked me with a foot. “Honoria is terrifying, you should be on your knees thanking me.”

“She is rather, and any other day I would, but…” I trailed off and turned to stare out the window. 

“He’s very handsome.” Charlie said, softly turning the glass around in his hands. 

“Yes.” I drained my glass. “But his looks are the least of him.”

“Oh, Bertie.” Charlie set his glass on the table and leaned into me.

I allowed myself to find comfort in his arms.

“All it took was her voice and I was him again.” I whispered into his shoulder.

Charlie stroked my hair. “But you didn’t stay him. You were so brave.”

I just shook my head and soaked in his warmth.

Tomorrow was going to awful. 

I arrived at the hospital first thing in the morning hoping to avoid Dahlia and Jeeves. Charlie was going to spend the day meeting with a few of his fellow editors and while I was incredibly thankful for his presence, I had found my voice yesterday and would be okay.

There was no trace of ex-valet or ex-aunt and I legged it up to see Agatha.

She was awake, barely, when I poked my head through the door and she weakly beckoned me in. 

Agatha looked even worse up close. Frail, like she would break with one wrong move. It was unnerving seeing her so diminished. At least physically, she still bossed the nurse around like she was royal.

And she had strength to try to force me under her will. She pointed to the chair next to the bed and got right to the point. I could barely hear her and had to lean in to be lectured. 

"Bertram Wooster. Your disappearing shenanigans are over. I don’t care where you were but it is done. You are back now. You are now over 30 years old, you will drop this nonsense and" She had to pause to cough. 

I ached for her.

"You will marry Honoria. That's my last wish, to see you married." She proclaimed and fell back against the pillow, strength spent.

I looked at her and was so tempted to cave but stood firm. "No, Aunt Agatha. I will not."

She frowned up at me, puzzled at this unexpected resistance.

"I love you, Aunt Agatha and I will forever be grateful to you for wanting to see to my happiness, but I will not. I will not move back to England and I will not marry Honoria."  
I said quietly. 

"Bertie, you utter disgrace! You blot!" She wheezed.

I removed my hand from her grasp. "No, Aunt Agatha! I am not a disgrace, nor am I a blot. I have a job I love in New York and I support myself. If you think I am a disgrace because I won't marry someone so desperately unsuited to me then that’s disgraceful on your part, and I am not a blot, not anymore."

I refused to back down. I would not back down.

"You have a job?" She whispered, shocked, I think, both at my employment and refusal to back down.

"I do." I smiled. "I have a column in a literary magazine and speaking engagements. I am fairly well regarded." I reached out and grabbed her hand. “I have my own apartment and I have been taking care of myself. I am happy, Aunt Agatha.”

She peered at me. "You still need to marry, produce sons, carry on the Wooster name."

I shook my head. "Claude and his family will carry it on. The title will pass from Uncle George to me and then to Claude and his sons. Rest easy, Aunt A. There's nothing about it, you can do."

She stared at me. “There was a time when you would bend to any firm will and I worried for you.” She whispered. “But maybe I don’t have to worry about you any longer.”

I squeezed her hand. “No, you don’t. I’m okay, I promise. Shall I tell you tales of New York?”

She smiled and I launched into a tale of learning to bake bread.

Sometime later, her grip slackened and she nodded off. I gently released her hand and leaned over to kiss her forehead, my own gentle goodbye.

I stood and when I turned around I saw that the sitting room was full of people staring at me.

Jeeves was there, along with Mrs. Travers, Angela, and Tuppy. I refused to be cowed.

“Berie! You fiend!” Angela launched herself at me. I was prepared for an attacked but was surprised when she wrapped her arms around me in a huge hug. 

“I missed you so much.” She whispered before letting go of me. 

Tuppy toddled over for a firm handshake. “Berie old boy, you missed a hell of stag party.” 

Angela pulled me over to the chairs. “Did you really learn to cook Bertie?”

I smiled at her grateful that she was letting my two year absence otherwise go unremarked. 

“I mean I am no Jeeves or Anatole, but I learned to throw a meal together, though the less said about my baking activities the better. Dough all over my kitchen.” I chuckled. 

“But my broiled salmon is quite a favorite among my friends. I have a cleaning lady who comes once a week since I’m afraid laundry escapes me, turned every white shirt I had bright pink.”

I could see Jeeves wince out of the corner of my eye. 

Angela and I spent a little while catching up as the room slowly filled with people. Claude and Eustace, Uncle George and his common wife, even Macintosh was smuggled in. Everyone seemed to think today was the day. 

And they weren’t wrong. Sometime after 3pm the nurse came in and announced that Aunt Agatha was no longer with us.

I had expected to feel relief but all I felt was sadness. She had been such a big part of my life and even though we didn’t see eye to eye I knew she had loved me, as much as she was able. 

I slid through the door and into the hallway for some air, and, to get away from everyone. 

Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes and just breathed. 

A quiet cough directed my attention to Jeeves, who was standing some feet away. 

“I’m sorry for your loss, Sir.” Jeeves held out a handkerchief and I realized the wet on my face was from tears. I had been crying and not even realized. 

I took the cloth from him and wiped my face. “Thank you, Jeeves. Always prepared with just the thing.”

“Why did you leave?” He wrinkled his nose as if he hadn’t believed such a blunt question had come out of his own mouth at such an inopportune time. 

I certainly didn’t nor could I answer him. “That is a conversation for another time. Right now I need to not be here.” I wasn’t ready for this, not when I had just lost one aunt and had alienated the other yesterday. I left him standing in the hallway and made my way back to the hotel, to fall into Charlie’s arms.


	3. Face to Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long due conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that took me months to write. I'm not 100% happy with it. I have a much harder time writing Jeeves than Bertie. 
> 
> Thank you for all your amazing comments!

I was and was not prepared for the heavy knock on the door to my hotel suite the night after we buried Aunt A. I knew Jeeves would pop up at some point and I guess now was as good a time as any. Agatha was buried and I would be leaving the metrop shortly.

I swung open the door to find Jeeves and Dahlia standing in the hallway. Dahlia, I was not expecting, not after my blow up at the hospital. She had all but ignored me at Agatha’s funeral and at the reception after. Why had she come with Jeeves? There was no way we could have the conversation we needed to infront of her. 

“Mrs. Travers, Jeeves. To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure?” I tried not betray my nerves and gestured for them to come in. It did give me no small amount of pleasure to see her tiny flinch when I called her Mrs. Travers. 

Dahlia settled primly on the sofa. “Yes, Jeeves, why did you insist on me being here?”

Jeeves stood there before Dahlia and I, practically radiating smugness. He was up to something. 

“I’m afraid I have uncovered something quite shocking.” He began and paused, meaningfully. 

He was always one for the dramatic reveal. 

I sat on the sofa, lit a gasper and waved for him to continue. I should have offered refreshments but I was too drained.

He drew himself up, not unlike a Rosie B banks character, and spoke. 

“On the request of my employer, I did some digging into a Ms.Charlotte Carraway and I regret to inform both of you that no such person exists. A wire from New York confirmed my suspicions that Charlotte is in fact Charles, and is male. You’ve been had, Sir. ” He spit out as if the words were distasteful to say. 

I wheezed out the smoke in my lungs in surprise. I had forgotten just how good he was. Once the surprise cleared, I was furious. How dare he?

“That’s just like you, Jeeves, to do what you want and damn the consequences or could you just not handle that someone else was there for me, that someone else rescued me? Of course I know who and what Charlie is.” 

I was beyond furious. How dare he expose us in front of Dahlia? That smug jackass. Well, for once I was ahead of him. 

Casting a scathing look at him, I stood and went to the door that led to Charlie’s room. It sounded like he was off the phone and so I pushed gently on the door. Charlie was sitting on the bed reviewing paperwork. 

“If you have a minute, can you come out to sitting room? Jeeves and Dahlia are here.” He quirked an eyebrow at me but I was in no mood for flirting. 

I turned around, swung the door wide open and watched Jeeves’ face as Charlie strolled through, looking entirely male and entirely unconcerned. 

“Hello, again!” He beamed at them, ignoring the stunned looks. 

I took relish in the look of shock on the normally blank Jeevsian face. 

“This is my very good friend and editor, Charles Carraway, who graciously agreed to pretend to be my fiance for this trip so I wouldn’t ended up married against my will, a contigawhatsy that I ended up needing.” I bit out. 

“What a lark, pretending to be a girl for a few days! Quite the practical joke.” Charlie grinned comfortably. 

“Charlie is the one who gave me the telegram about Agatha. He came to London to support me and quite frankly, protect me if needed, which it was. I might have ended up married to Honoria if he hadn’t been so quick on his feet.” Fury coursed through me and I spilled. 

“How stupid do you think I am, Jeeves? No, don’t answer that, I shudder to think of what you might say and your actions here with Dahlia adquently show your contempt for me.” I was almost yelling. Everything that I had been sitting on for years was gushing to the surface and I didn’t know if I could contain it. 

I spun around to stare out the window hoping for control. Staring out windows was becoming a thing for me. A beat later a gentle hand rested on my shoulder and nudged my face. 

“Alright there, Bertie?” Charlie asked, quietly. 

I turned to look at his concerned face and was able to cobble together some control. 

“Dahlia? Jeeves and I need to have a private conversation. Perhaps you and Charlie could pop downstairs for tea? As an fellow editor, I’m sure you have lots in common.” I spoke carefully but firmly turning to look back out the window. 

Dahlia looked at me, looked at Charlie and chucked. “All much ado about nothing, or I guess a bit more like Twelfth Night. Come on now Charles tell me all about your publication, how are you managing ad sales?”

Charlie squeezed my shoulder and released, going to Dahlia. They spoke, and the door quietly opened and closed. 

I couldn’t bring myself to turn around and look at Jeeves. I instead continued to gaze out the window tracing the skyline. 

I heard a quiet clink behind me and a glass with b. and s. suddenly appeared by my side. I was tempted to ignore it but that seemed petty, and also I wanted it. I could never recreate Jeeves steady hand with drinks. 

I took it and turned around to see that he had retreated to the other side of the room watching me like I was some sort of primed explosive. 

I tossed back the b. and s. and leaned back against the window. We stood in silence staring at each other. There had once been a time when we hadn’t needed words between us, when silence was comfortable. That time was gone. This was agonizingly tense and I had to break it. 

“I meant it, you know. If you don’t want the flat then sell it or give it to Mabel. It was always more yours than mine.” 

Jeeves flinched.

“Sir. I was distressed when I returned to find you gone. Moreso when I couldn’t find you. I asked before. Why did you leave?”

I eyed him. “I realized the people around me no longer cared about me. I was, what’s the word? Extraneous? Good as a source of the ready or to take a hit but for my own desires and cares, dismissed utterly.”

“That’s not true, Sir. We were all at a loss when you went missing.” if I didn’t know better I would say that he sounded offended. 

“Stop calling me ‘Sir’. You aren’t in my employ and I left you enough assets that you shouldn’t be in anyone’s employ.” I snapped. 

“And it is factually true. I sat down after that whole mess with Spode, and maybe the two whacks to the head shook something loose, but I sat there and made a list of all the problems, situations, soup and such with my family and friends and you know what, Jeeves? I was always the butt of the joke or the plan. I always was left looking like a fool when all I wanted to do was help. I was happy to help my friends and family. But that one time I said no, I didn’t want to be hit on the head, I said no and you and Dahlia stood there and let him do it, all for a stupid painting. And I had to think to myself, How could the people around me, the people I tried to help, who claimed to care about me, ignore my expressed wishes and allow me to be physically struck, knocked unconscious? I realized I no longer trusted them or you.” I saw him flinch away from that but pressed on.

“You, who was essential to my life and whom I trusted beyond anything and who I…”

I trailed off but the word ‘loved’ hung in the air. “You stood there and let me be hit, not once but twice, for the most inconsequential of reasons. And so I had to leave. I couldn’t stay and be your whipping boy anymore.”

We stood in silence for a beat before he spoke. “I’m more sorry than I could say that I let him do that. At the moment all that matter was helping Dahlia and proving my worth to you and yours, cementing my place in your life. It was only after that I realized I had gone too far. You lay in that bed, confused and vulnerable, and for all intents and purposes, it was I who put you there. And I wondered if I had gone too far. But then you seemed fine and I let it pass unremarked. I should have told you then how sorry I was, how I knew it was wrong and how I only ever wanted to be essential to you. It started out as just wanting to secure my position but you gave my life purpose and I didn’t realize how badly I had let you down until I was standing in your solicitor's office staring at the deed to your flat.”

He paused and stared beyond my shoulder. “I stood there being offered everything one could want, wealth, security, status, all the things I had thought I wanted out of life, and I realized for the first time that all I wanted was you.”

It was the most I could ever remember him saying at once and the most demonstrative. He had let his defenses down and let himself display emotion. It was all I could do to not go and wrap him in my a’s. but something in me held back. 

“I never realized that in my quest to become essential to you that you had become everything to me.” He ended and I realised he had been slowly moving towards me as he spoke. I don’t even think he realized it until we were standing barely a foot of distance between us. 

I met his honesty with my own and let a little of what was nestled under the old h. shine through. 

“I don’t know if you are being deliberately obtuse, Jeeves. But here is it, you were already like oxygen to me from that very first day. I told Honoria back then that I couldn’t carry on for a day without you when she told me she would dismiss you when we were married. I never needed anything else but you. Even if you never solved another whatsit for friends or family, this Wooster was yours. I would have allowed you anything. But even I have pride, too. How could I be with someone who thinks me mentally negligent? Yes, I overheard that but I could bare it, at least I could then.Its sad now that I think about it, how little I was willing to accept from you, I didn’t even need your respect.”

“It all came to a head after Spode. I looked at myself and hated what I had let myself become. I needed to find myself again. And I did, I like who am now Jeeves, I’m not some child that needs looking after or liege on a pedestal, I am just a man. I take care of myself, provide for myself, I can respect myself.”

He blinked and took a minute to absorb what I had said. 

“And in two years you haven’t changed. What were you thinking, bringing Dahlia here like that so you could ‘unmask’ Charlie? That was dangerous, Jeeves, stupidly so. Your actions have consequences and these could have ended with either Charlie or myself doing two years hard labor. What if she hadn’t been able to laugh if off?”

He had the grace to blush, just a little. “You were right, Sir. I couldn’t stand seeing someone else rescue you, not after doing without you for so long. But also the thought of you making a life with someone else, I couldn’t tolerate it.”

We stood there close enough to share breath. I could see the wheels turning in that fish fed head of his and yearned for the press of his lips on mine. 

“Please come home, Sir. Please. I have missed you and our life terribly.” He raised his hand to cup my cheek. 

I blinked tears back in despair. He still didn’t understand and for a moment I was tempted. I could see it in the old imagde, returning to the flat, letting him care for me, falling into old patterns. But I wasn’t that man anymore and that’s not what I needed. 

I covered his hand with mine and it hurt to see the hope in his eyes. 

“You still don’t understand. Jeeves, I can’t stay, I can’t be him again, become that empty vacousities man again with a servant to wait on him. I have a life in New York and what I need isn’t gentleman’s gentleman but a partner. ”

I raised myself up, gathered my courage and pressed my lips to his, a soft goodbye. 

Our first and last kiss. 

The rest of the night blurred together. I wish I could say that I remembered how we parted, I just know that he left, hat in hand and I stayed curled on the sofa until Charlie came back in the wee hours of dawn.


	4. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie returns home to New York and finds a new coping method.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so here it is, two years later. I hope it doesn't let anyone down.

My flat was empty. 

Our ship had pulled into N. Y. in the late afternoon. I had been a sulky mess for most of the voyage and had locked myself in my stateroom. Charlie left me at pier and had gone home claiming exhaustion. I knew that he was going to write to whoever it was that he had met in London that last night. He had returned from a night out to find me dazed and depressed on the sofa and had supervised getting me and my things onto the ship. 

I dropped my valise on the floor and flopped down onto the couch before bouncing back up and pacing. Too much had happened in a very short amount of time and now that it was all over and I was home I found that I could not settle. 

I had made the right, and quite frankly only decision I could have made, by returning to New York but part of me regretted leaving Jeeves and mourned. I could still feel the phantom touch of the press of his lips against mine. It was torture to have had that one taste of him but in asking me to stay he had shown he hadn’t heard me. 

I continued pacing. He had been an essential part of my life for so long and and was the love of my life. But I couldn’t have done what he asked. Not when it meant returning to that life which had been toxic to me. I couldn’t and wouldn’t be a man who toddled around doing nothing with his days but attend clubs and contributed little to the world. 

But Jeeves. I had spent most of my time in New York avoiding the thought of him but now he was all I could think about. 

Maybe with the confrontation done and an ocean between us, I could let go of my anger and pain and take joy in the happy memories of him. 

I was passing by my desk when I was struck with the sudden need to commit these m.s to paper. I threw myself in front of my typewriter and set my hands on the ks. 

Unlike the last time I had examined my time with Jeeves, this time I focused not on the outcomes and the impact on me but on the actual events. I tried to be objective about it all. 

“I shall always remember the day he came.”

Words flowed out of me, pouring on the page. Story after story about a foolish young aristocrat and his brainy valet unfolded underneath my fingers well into the night. I wrote feverishly, breaking only for a quick bite and ablations. By the morning I had 5 solid short stories. They were rough, but I was prouder of them then anything else I had written. I had written our early adventures, meeting Jeeves for the first time, Sir Roderick and the cats in my bedroom and more. I stopped before the events that resulted in me taking an 18-mile bike ride in the rain. I wanted to focus on the happy. 

Barely able to stand from exhaustion, I packed the carbon paper copies, labeled them “My Man, Jeeves”, had the whole kit messengered to Charlie and collapsed into bed. 

Some time later, the sun was shining offensively on my eyes and there was a pounding on my door. 

A quick glance at the clock showed that I had been asleep for 5 hours and it was the afternoon. 

I stumbled to the door and thrust it open, yawning widely in Charlie’s face as he shoved passed me. 

“I have been knocking for 15 minutes. I was worried that you had gone and done something stupid.”

I waved him off and fumbled into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. 

“Bugger off. It’s been a hard couple of weeks and I was up all bally night writing.” I had become good at making a strong pot of c. and could do it in my sleep, practically. 

Charlie made himself at home at my kitchen table. “So I saw.” He placed the package I had sent him on the table and rested his hand on it. 

“Yes, well.” I paused. “I started and it just happened like one of those muse thingamabobs.” 

I focused on making the coffee and ignored the stare I could feel him burning into my back. 

He broke the silence first. “I opened this this morning and couldn’t put it down. This really is some of your best work, Bertie. Funny and self deprecating but also deeply moving. We’d have to change the names and parts of it will have to be toned down, of course but these deserve to be published.”

I brought two cups filled with the hot caffeinated stuff and slouched into a chair. 

“Toned down? What do you mean, toned down?” I took a sip and tried to figure out what Charlie was on about. 

“Come on, Bertie.” He opened the package, and flipped a couple pages in “Even if I hadn’t known you were in love with Jeeves, I certainly would suspect after this. You call him ‘an amazing cove,’ and that when engaged to a woman who would want you to fire him it would be a ‘such frightful sacrifice’ and write about being in a stupor thinking about being without him. Its nothing explicit but if this had been written about a man and a woman it would all read as romantic overtures, the way you describe fights about your wardrobe is another example.”

I shook my head. “I was positively restrained. There’s nothing there. You just see it because you know me so well. It’s all innocent.”

Charlie arched a brow at me. “If you insist. Luckily for you, I walked in last night to the news that a colleague’s main contributor for their next issue failed to produce their content and if I had anyone who could fill in. We can slip the first of yours and see how it does. We’ll swap out the names. How’s Algernon instead of Bertram? And Manning for Jeeves?” 

“Do what it what you will, I found release in the act of writing them, it was cathic? Cartic? Cathartic, that’s the fellow.” It was true. With my head clear I felt better, less angry. The memories were no longer a sore tooth for me to ignore. 

“So, I’ve been a bit of a childish horse’s ass, and a lousy friend the last few days.” I said, changing the subject. “Tell me about whoever it was in London that made you giddy?” 

Charlie grinned at me. “I understood, you’ve been through the wringer, my friend. That last night I didn’t come back to the hotel? I found an underground gambling club. Met this man, Tommy, mean as a snake, but gorgeous, all this pale white skin and dark inky hair. And the things he did with his mouth.” Charlie gazed off into space. 

I snorted at his gushing but was tickled by his happiness. 

“Does this mean you’ll being going to London, more often?” I asked.

Charlie shrugged. “Maybe, I had a meeting with a lady editor who had some good ideas. I’d like to collaborate with her, she was smart and articulate. We’ll see what comes of it, but I tell you, it’d be worth crossing the Atlantic every now and then for those lips. And tongue, and…”

I threw a towel at him to shut him up. 

We spent some time hashing out the details of what we were now calling “Algernon in the Soup”. We made just enough changes to the stories that while they kept the original feel and form no one aside from me and perhaps Jeeves would recognize them. Algernon was a silly but innocent ass who couldn’t say no to a friend in trouble and Manning was a paragon of virtue, a reflection of Jeeves. 

After he left, I cleaned myself up and sat back down staring at the stack of papers. Charlie was right, I could concede to myself. I had written Jeeves as a romantic lead. But I couldn’t bring myself to change them. Love was love and I still loved Jeeves with everything in me. Writing our story proved that. But unlike Jeeves and I, Algernon and Mannings would have a happy ending, I decided. it couldn’t be explicit, I wouldn’t risk Jeeves, but it would be clear for those who looked. 

Inspired and ready to face the past head on I forced myself to write about the events of Brinkley Court, Anatole and the 18-mile bike ride in the rain and how broken I had felt standing in the rain watching my family laugh at my pain, all orchestrated by Jeeves. I had forgiven him that but I had never forgotten and in the end it was just one more thing he had done. 

It took me the rest of the day, words flowing like an open tap but when I fell into bed that night it was complete and I could move on to happier adventures. 

A month after my return from England “Algernon in the Soup” debuted in Charlie’s colleague’s magazine to rave reviews and there was already talk of releasing a collected works. The serial was running weekly and publications from all over wanted a license to run it. Charlie was handling all of the business matters, doubling as my agent in this. ‘Manning’, the Jeeves stand in was wildly popular and it made me happy to see even a semi fictional version of Jeeves lauded. 

Writing the “Manning” stories had allowed to find peace with myself and my past. Some of it was very hard to write, the 18 mile bike ride and Jeeves leaving me after the trombone incident but with Charlie’s help I was able edit out the bitterness and turn them into humorous tales. While Dahlia and I would never again be close, I had kept up correspondence with Angela and Tuppy and even visited with Rocky Todd here in New York. I was no longer afraid of my past and the people in it. I had faced them and passed with flying colors. I did miss Jeeves terribly. I still didn’t regret my decision to return to New York but now that I allowed myself to think of him I found that his loss felt akin to the loss of a piece of myself. Nevertheless, I pushed on. 

But I thought of him deep in the night and yearned for his arms to surround me. 

I was writing down Jeeves’ New York adventures in place of Rocky Todd one afternoon when there was a quiet knock on my door. 

I pushed away from the desk, still thinking about how Rocky’s mom burst into the apartment, and meandered to the door. 

In my preoccupation it took me a few moments to comprehend the sight in front of me. 

Jeeves stood in the hallway, tall and board, looking almost too big for the space. He was wearing his black bowler hat and the suit he wore traveling. A large suitcase sat at his feet. It was a scene familiar to me, though without the grogginess of a hangover. 

I was sure that I had dreamed him up, a waking hallus-whatsit when he spoke quietly. 

“I was given to understand that you desired a partner. I am presenting myself as a candidate, despite not having a decent reference in the hopes that my desire to prove myself a an able helpmeet.” 

It echoed the first morning I had met him, all those years ago. 

He held up a copy of the first “Algernon in the Soup” story out to me “I read this and immediately knew it was you, the humor, the wit. I had enjoyed Will Reeves columns even before I knew he was you, but the Algernon stories are brilliantly funny and poignant. I was so proud of you while reading it. I had hoped that these meant that perhaps we didn’t need to end. That perhaps I could find my way back to you. I listened to what you said and I understand now. I treated you in times like a child or like my liege lord and in my care for you forgot that you were your own person. You don’t need me anymore, if you ever did. I beg your forgiveness. Forgive me. Bertram. Please.”

It was his free use of my first name that convinced me he was serious and that he at last understood. He had listened to me and was trying. Joy welled up in me and I was overcome with emotion. I grabbed his tie to pull him into the flat away from prying eyes and ears, to welcome him home properly.


End file.
